


The Four Times That It was Forbidden (And the One Time it Wasn't)

by bruit_of_buss



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, And Morgana's, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Boys In Love, Everyone cries so much, First Kisses, Getting Together, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Arthur, Immortal Merlin, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired by like 10 different songs, Jealous Arthur, Kidnapped Merlin (Merlin), Light Angst, M/M, Not a Magic Reveal, Pining, Uther just really sucks y'all, and i know that, break ups, but this isn't realistic or healthy either, hurt Arthur, implied gwen/morgana - Freeform, its not that they're toxic exactly, this is not a healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruit_of_buss/pseuds/bruit_of_buss
Summary: “Bloody Hell, Merlin, I care so much I think I’ll kill myself if you ever leave me. If there's ever a day where I don’t love you, you can stab me in the heart. Surely you do not think that lowly of me, do you? I love-”He had a quiet, unreadable expression his face. “No,” he said softly, cutting him off. “Stop. I’m sorry. I just- I can’t  can’t keep on  doing this.”Four times Merlin and Arthur shared forbidden kisses, and the one time it wasn't forbidden at all.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 209
Collections: The Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019





	1. All I Think About is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur doesn't really like summers, but somethings make them worth it.

Arthur had never liked summer much. The heat of the sun had always come into his eyes while he was on the field, training with his knights. And the mosquitoes weren’t his favourite either. 

He preferred winter, where the snow covered every tree and rooftop, a kingdom he had looked at with pride and wonder. Or perhaps the spring, when he would get to braid flowers crowns with Merlin and when the air was filled with the sweet smell of honey. 

He supposed it wasn’t so bad, though. Summer was also the only time he would get to take a dip in the lake inside the forest without getting a horrendous cold. 

And it was also the only time that swimming with a ‘lowly servant’ (as Uther would put it) would go unnoticed, since the water was much cleaner and fresh. It would make sense for the people from the lower towns, as well as the prince, to take advantage he of this. 

“Merlin,” he says once his manservant has finished dressing Arthur in his night clothes. “We're going for a swim tomorrow.” 

Merlin gave him an awkward smile. Things had been different which them lately. Ever since Lancelot had arrived (and left), their ‘relationship’ had been strained and Arthur hated it. They had made so much progress, from hating each other to being something that resembled friends and (hopefully) something more. "So bossy, sire," he said. "I suppose I don't have a choice in this?" 

“You do,” Arthur says. “I’m not going to force you but if you want to…” he trailed off, unsure of how he should continue. He hoped Merlin knew what he was implying, what he wanted more than anything. 

Merlin stares at him and Arthur’s not sure whether he’s overstepped or not. “I’ll be there,” he says, a faraway look in his eyes. 

  
  


The water is cool when Arthur steps into it. The lake had been crowded, overly so, but he found a secluded spot elsewhere, an extension of the huge lake which was hidden by a canopy of trees. He waits for Merlin for half-an-hour, but said man doesn’t show up. He’s disappointed, though some part of him had resigned himself to the fact that it would have never happened anyways. 

He’s about to get out of the water, to dress himself, when Merlin arrives. His face is red, and he’s panting as if he’s run a long distance. 

“Sorry,” he says, flinging himself onto the ground, his feet touching the lake. “I waited in the other part of the lake-- I couldn’t find you. Sorry, sorry.”   
  


“It’s fine,” Arthur says, the tense muscles in his back relaxing. He steps into the lake once again, turning as Merlin strips down as to give him some privacy. He hears a splash as Merlin jumps. “Can I look now?” he asks, unsure of how he should proceed. 

“Yeah,” he says. Arthur looks at him. He’s quite… lovely, you could say. He’s still wearing his neckerchief, but his face is untroubled and smiling. “You don’t want that to wash away do you?” he asks, smirking as he touches the red cloth. 

Merlin stares at him, a sort of intensity on his face that leaves Arthur breathless. “No,” he says finally. “I don’t.” he takes it off, and leaves it on the bank. He swims towards Arthur and the prince isn’t able to take his eyes off of his manservant. He tries to remind himself that it is forbidden. Merlin is not only a sorcerer, but a man too. It could never happen. 

But when Merlin places a kiss on his lips, he forgets that. Lost. He grips Merlin’s hair, closing his eyes, and wraps his other arm around Merlin’s waist. Needless to say, they spent a lot of time in that river. 


	2. Good god, Let Me Give You My Life

His pale blue eyes lingered on Merlin’s as he got off the horse. “Build the fire,” he said, trying not to scream. “It’s chilly. Too cold for autumn.” It’s a distraction. A small talk about the weather. How foolish of him. 

Speaking of foolishness,  _ how _ could Merlin have been so utterly stupid? If he hadn’t ducked last minute-- Arthur didn’t want to think of what would have happened. He turned away, setting up the sheets. 

“Are you sure you’re fine?” he asked, when they both were done with their work, sitting around the fire. He wasn’t even trying to pretend as if he wasn’t concerned. He would usually try to hide the worry in his voice, prevent it from leaking out-- but not now. Princes weren’t supposed to care about lowly peasants, Uther would have his head if he knew what Arthur felt for Merlin. But, gods, Merlin had almost  _ died  _ out there. His own head be damned. 

He leans in to kiss Merlin, but his manservant turns his head. He frowned, that was new. They usually couldn't keep their hands off of each other when they were alone.

His manservant (his foolish, idiotic, dumb and undeniably brave manservant) gave him a weak smile. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, his voice sounding strange, thick and heavy. “I would say you cared.” 

Arthur stays silent. He knows it’s a joke, but the fact that Merlin thinks he doesn't care kind of makes his heart ache. “Of course I do,” he says with an intensity he himself didn’t know he could muster. “Bloody Hell, Merlin, I care so much I think I’ll kill myself if you ever leave me. If there's ever a day where I don’t love you, you can stab me in the heart. Surely you do not think that lowly of me, do you? Merlin I love-” 

He had a quiet, an unreadable expression his face. “No,” he said softly, cutting him off. “Stop. I’m sorry. I just- I can’t can’t keep doing this.” 

Arthur kept his face down. Of course. 

“I understand,” he said, coolly. His face was burning, but it wasn’t because of the fire this time. “I’ll keep my distance. If you want, you can serve some other noble instead. Maybe Lord Ap-” 

“Please don’t. Don't be nice. I won't be able to do this,” Merlin says, his eyes are watery, as if he’s going to cry at any moment. Arthur looks the other way. He can feel his own eyes burning. He knows, of course, that they can’t  _ be _ anything. Not while Uther is still king. Not while Merlin is still a peasant and Arthur is still a prince. But he still wants to try. To give them a chance. “I do love you, Arthur,” he thinks both of them are full-on sobbing now, “but I can’t. I’m a servant- I have magic, for god’s sake. I’m not even supposed to live. And- and not to mention the fact we’re both males. If they ever find out they won’t let you be king-- they might even kill one of us. I… I can’t risk your life like that. I cannot let us be the reason you don’t get to rule your kingdom.’’ 

“I understand,” Arthur says, wiping away his tears, though they don’t seem to stop. “I really do. But no one is watching us right now. Can I just have one last kiss? Please.” His voice sounds desperate to his own ears. Needy, even. But that’s what he is. He needs Merlin to be by his side. Always. 

Merlin gives him a soft, sad smile. He shifts toward to Arthur, placing one hand and his cheek and the other on his shoulder. He places a small kiss on Arthur’s mouth, soft and sweet. He’s about to stand up and move away, but Arthur pulls him closer, placing another kiss. On his nose, on his ears, on his mouth. It’s almost like a goodbye. A ‘I want you to stay’ but a ‘Please leave me now’ at the same time. He finally lets go, and Merlin closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry", he says again. Arthur just nods mutely, walking towards his mess of a bed as Merlin does the same for his own. His sorry cannot change the truth. 

Sleeping next to Merlin is agony. He wants to reach out and touch him, to beg for a new life. But he doesn’t. Instead, he closes his eyes, trying to sleep. He doesn't, though. He spends most of the night with his eyes wide open, wondering if Merlin was dreaming about him. 

(He wasn't. But that was because Merlin wasn't dreaming at all, he had been crying). 


	3. Every Inch of My LOvve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because I had a weird dream when I was sick, so if you want the actual kisses and not crack, just skip to the end. (Also, it physically hurt me to write Gawain like this and I did him dirty he would lose his mind if Merlin got hurt. He's my fave-- after Morgana anyways. She's an actual and my queen). Also, to clarify the ending. Leon found Merlin and Arthur in front of the tent, he left cause he thought they were following him, and manages to get them both onto their horses. They also have severe colds for a moth because it's winter and that's what you get for getting kidnapped in winter, Merlin. Not cool. I'm tired.

Arthur was going to kill someone. Not just someone--  _ Gwaine _ . The idiotic knight who ate too many apples, had too much mead and- honestly, what did Merlin see in him? 

He glared murderously at them from the other side of the campfire. It was bad enough that Merlin had decided that they couldn’t be together, but this? He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Maybe they weren’t bedding each other.

Maybe they were friends. Just friends. He hoped so. He really, really did. If they were something else… He didn’t think he could handle it. He didn’t know what he would do. 

“Sire?” Leon asked, ever dutiful. “Are you alright?”

He gave him a stiff nod, his eyes still shut. He couldn't bear to look at the pitying look that his knight would give him. Leon knew. Arthur wasn’t sure whether he was the only one or not, but he  _ knew _ . Knew what Merlin and Arthur shared. “Or what they used to share anyway,” he thought bitterly. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I just- I need to-” he stood up. He needed to clear his head. He spared one last glance at them- and oh, hell no. Merlin was cuddling with his knight. Their faces were really close, their bodies packed tightly together. He almost ran from there. But instead, he walked away agonisingly slow, as if to restrain his anger. No. No, no, no, no. Maybe they were just looking for heat, it was quite cold after all. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he whispered under his breathe. “You know it’s exactly what it looks like, Pendragon.”

He looks down at the grass, it’s covered in snow today. He almost shivers, perhaps leaving the fire wasn’t his best idea but he couldn’t stay there. He would do something he would regret (he wouldn’t-- regret it, he means- but he couldn’t do that to Merlin). 

He roams around for a bit, getting further and further away from the camp, and sits down on a particularly large rock, trying to collect his thoughts. 

There’s a scream. His head snaps up. It sounded just like Merlin. He stands up as fast as he can and  _ runs _ . If anything happened to Merlin, he wasn’t sure what he would do. By the time he reaches the clearing, he’s gone. 

  
  
  


“What happened?” Arthur growls, he’s barely restraining himself. His voice is cold and harsh, even to himself, and one of the knights-- he thinks it was Percival-- flinches. 

  
  


“Bandits, princess” Gwaine says, he looks and sounds indifferent and Arthur wants to grab him by the shoulder, to shake him until he tells him exactly what happened. 

“I meant,” Arthur says, stalking up to him, his hands gripping each other tightly as his nails digging into his skin, “what happened to Merlin?”

  
  


They’re silent, it’s almost unnerving. He’s never seen them like this before,. Scared, like kittens. It’s because of him, he realises. They’re scared of him. 

“They took him, sire,” Elyan says finally, clearing his throat and look down guiltily as if he’s on trial and Arthur’s the judge. “We didn’t notice, we thought he was hiding behind a tree or something like that. We continued fighting and when it was over- when they retreated, I mean- we realised. I’m sorry- We’re sorry, sire.”

Arthur stares straight ahead. “Which direction did they go towards?” he asks, looking at Leon. 

“All due respect, m’lord,’’ his first knight says, “I don’t think you’ll be able to track him right now. I think these were sorcerers. They didn’t leave any fingerprints-- we checked. And in this cold, it might be difficult for you to survive. Our supplies are almost gone. We were supposed to have returned yesterday.” He glares at him, Leon is supposed to know better, to support him at all times. He’s about to retort, about to say how it’ll be even more difficult tomorrow, but then a better idea enters his head. 

“Alright,’’ he says, as calmly as he can. Leon gives him a surprised look, as if he expected Arthur to put more of a fight.

If only he knew. 

  
  
  
  


“Absolutely not,” Uther says. “I’m not letting you organise a search party for a mere servant, Arthur. Especially one as idiotic as him.”

Arthur kept his head down. He’d expected this, of course. He’d long since realised that his father wasn’t the god or good man that he had always thought of him as. 

At least he tried. 

He tried to catch Morgana’s eye, sitting right in front of him on the dining table. She was aggressively cutting her steak, and it looked like she might as well have been dismembering a soldier. When she finally looked up, he mouthed the words “your room”. She gave him a subtle nod, quirked a curious eyebrow and went back to murderously glaring at her food. He tried to eat, though he had lost his appetite when he had lost Merlin. 

  
  
  
  


“What do you want?” she asked, her eyes are green searching him, waiting patiently for him to reveal his cause. They’re in her room now, facing each other as she sits and he stands. 

“Find Merlin,” he says, commands even. 

She looks scared almost, and laughs nervously. “And how exactly do you expect me to do  _ that _ ?” she asks.

He gives her a dry look, and wrings his hands. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she looks down, “I need you to scry for me. Please don’t say-”

“How did you know?” she asks, cutting him off. 

  
  


He walks towards and she seems to draw back. He stops abruptly. This is new. Morgana is sacred. Of _ him _ . He feels his fury rising in him, his sister, his beautiful sister is sacred simply because she has magic. Scared of the person she’s known since she was three because she thinks he’s going to hurt her, _ because she has magic _ . He wants to blast into Uther’s room, scream at him for ruining this. For destroying everything, for being a magic-hating bigot, for never trusting Arthur, for all the things he has done. He doesn’t, of course. Maybe some other day. 

He clenches his fists, and says in a tight voice, “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Merlin has this strange sixth sense where he just  _ senses _ magic. He said you practically radiated it.” She lifts her eyes in surprise, whether it was because of the fact that Merlin had magic or the fact that Arthur seemed to know that Merlin had magic, he wasn’t sure. 

  
  


“Okay,” she says, nodding. “Okay. I need a bowl, Gwen can get that-- she’s a sweetheart-- and some herbs. Nightshade, mint, some other things, nothing too hard to find. Get them from Gaius and meet me at 5 in the morning tomorrow-- in the clearing in the forest. You know which one I’m talking about. Since I assume you’re trying to be discreet.” A wave of relief passes through him, he knew she would do it but her saying it just brings a whole new meaning to it. It’s happening. He’s getting Merlin back. 

He meets her eyes and gives her a small smile, saying thank you. She stares back, not saying anything until he leaves the room. 

  
  
  


Getting the herbs was easy, just like Morgana said. He makes a mental note to talk to Gaius about leaving deadly and some not-deadly herbs just lying around for anyone to see and steal. 

Gwen is there when he arrives. She’s balancing a pot of water in her hands, looking as if she’s about to fall any second. He places the damned plants on the ground and takes it from her, surprised to find it’s much heavier than it looks. 

  
  


He’s about to ask where Morgana is, when she bursts in, wearing a purple dress, her hair filled with thorns and sticks as if she'd clawed through a tree to get here. “What happened to you?” he asks. “You look _ terrible _ .”

She glares at him as Gwen rushes to help her, making a sort-of plait for her in the process. “Do you have it?” she asks, once it’s done.

He nods, puts down the pot picks up the herbs and throws them at her. “Catch,” he says. She does, throwing them into the water. He’s sort of disappointed yet oddly delighted when her eyes remain the same as she mutters the spell. Whenever Merlin did magic, they turned the most gorgeous shade of gold. As she focuses on her task, he gets lost in his thoughts. 

The first time had seen him do it, he had been mesmerised. He had tried so hard to resist the urge to kiss Merlin right then and there. He almost did, but Gwaine had burst in at the entirely wrong moment to tell them about a dream he had had about cheese and apples. 

He supposed that it was a good thing that Morgana couldn't do it. It was something unique, an ability only Merlin possessed. 

God, he misses Merlin. He knows it’s been only two days, but he can’t help it. Merlin's in danger, who knows what those bandits are doing to him. 

  
  


“I found him,” Morgana whispers, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts. “I found him.” 

  
  
  
  
  


It’s night when Arthur steps out. The fires have been lit, and the only people on the streets are the guards. He has a duffel bag with him, containing another sword, a dagger, chain mail and an extra pair of clothes. He’s shivers the moment the air kisses his face, cool and biting. He’s severely undressed, George simply didn’t see the need for the prince to wear many layers of clothes to bed and wearing his armour would cause too much noise. 

He makes it to the edge of the forest with no problems or interruptions. His destination isn’t too far from here, only an hour of walking at most. He puts his bag down and takes out the chain mail, placing it carefully on himself and puts his dagger into his holster. 

“What are you doing?” a voice comes.

Arthur turns light-fast, his dagger in his hands, preparing to use it. “It’s you,” he says. His shoulders sag in relief, though he’s not completely relaxed. “Why were you following me?’’ 

Leon shrugs, tracking each movement Arthur is making. “I couldn’t let you go alone.”

“You’re not going to stop me?” he asked. “You know my father- you superior- would have my head if he knew I was doing this.” 

“I’m loyal to you sire,” he said, “not Uther. Maybe at one point, but not now. Not ever. Besides,” he gazes into Arthur’s eyes, “I don’t think the force of a thousand lions could stop you from getting to him.” 

*

“Did you find it? I didn’t have much luck?” he asks, tapping his foot impatiently once Leon’s back. 

Leon gives him smile, Arthur’s heart soars. He found them. He hadn’t had any luck searching the northern part of the place Morgana had given him incredibly vague descriptions of. But Leon had found the bandit’s camp and  _ he would have Merlin back.  _

“How many of them are there?” Arthur asks.

“Three outside,” he says,“ and around two inside. I couldn’t see anyone else, but I don’t think there are any other guards, but I can’t be sure.”

Arthur nods. “Are you sure it’s them?” he asks. 

“I recognise one of them,” he replies. “He’s also got the injury where my sword touched his face.” 

“Let’s go then,” he says, smirking. 

  
  


*

They're all dead once he’s done. He doesn’t feel guilty, though he knows he should. But he can’t. He doesn’t care about the lives he’s taken, all he cares about is  _ him _ . He tears through the men like they’re everything wrong in the world, and he doesn’t bother to dispose of the bodies. Someone will find them eventually. 

His body is curled up on the ground, his shirt torn from the back, where Arthur can see whip marks. He sees red and suddenly wished that he had made their deaths slower, more painful. 

“Are you alright?” he questions. It’s a stupid thing to ask, but he needs to know how deep the injuries are, physical and psychological. 

Merlin nods mutely. He tires to get up, but falls once he does so. Arthur rushes to help him, taking Merlin’s arm and putting it around his shoulders, helping him walk. 

“Ar-Arthur,” he croaks. Arthur wants to reassure him, tell him that everything is going to be alright. But he can’t. He can’t find his voice. 

He manages to drag Merlin out, his adrenaline rush fading away as he starts to feel tired. 

“Leon?” he calls out. Where did he go? He was supposed to be right there, taking care of that one pesky guard. At least that's what Arthur had told him to do. He frowns, looking around and- Oh. That pesky guard was right here, apparently stabbing Arthur. The both fall, Merlin crushing Arthur under him. 

“Arthur?” he asks, his eyes widening. He can’t see him properly, everything is blurry and weird. The guard is picking his sword up again, about to strike Merlin this time. Arthur doesn’t have the strength to warn him, but he doesn't have to. Merlin raises his head, his eyes flash gold and the guard’s on his knees now, a hole in his chest. 

Arthur feels his eyes closing and he tries to fight the drowsiness that’s overtaking him, but he’s already feeling intoxicated. “Arthur?” Merlin masks again, his voice more desperate this time. “Arthur, wake up! Keep your eyes open, keep them on me.”

Arthur knows he’s dying, he knows. He wonders what’ll happen afterwards, but he wants to spend his last moments with Merlin. “Just- just hold me,” he gasps. Merlin stares at him in fright, adjusting them in a way to make Arthur more comfortable. “Kiss me,” he begs. “One last time.” 

“Oh, you are not dying here, Pendragon,” he says, but Arthur can see how scared he looks. He closes his eyes, and feels Merlin’s lips on his forehead and his tears on his face. It's a goodbye, he knows. He feels himself slip away, and then he’s gone. 

  
  


The next time Arthur Pendragon opens his eyes, he’s in Gaius’ infirmary, Merlin on a bed next to him, and his knights by his side. 


End file.
